


Towel Dry

by FluffyGremlin



Series: Bulletproof [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyGremlin/pseuds/FluffyGremlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is damp. Stiles is up against the door. It's a good day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Towel Dry

**Author's Note:**

> [Verity ](http://veritasst.tumblr.com) asked for porn. I wrote porn. That's really the best excuse there could be.

“Damnit, Derek! No fair pulling your disappearing act when I’m cornered by Scott _and_ his mom.” Stiles pushes the door open to Derek’s loft, ignoring the niggling voice that sounded a lot like his Dad lecturing him about B &Es. “I wasn’t done arguing with... you...”

Stiles is pretty sure the thudding sound that echoes through the open area is the sound of his jaw hitting the floor. Derek glares at him, skin wet, hair dripping, tiny towel hanging threateningly around his waist. “Go home, Stiles,” the older man grumbles, starting to cross his arms before reaching down to resecure the towel.

“Sure,” Stiles nods. He takes a step towards the door, eyes locked on Derek’s, before he reaches behind himself and pushes it closed. “Not.” He leans back against the door and very carefully ignores the way his throat is refusing to cooperate with his desire to swallow as Derek’s face twists up in a silent growl.

“Go. Home. Stiles.” Derek does cross his arms this time and Stiles’ seventeen year old brain cannot seem to get past the way water is sliding along his biceps to remember that there was a werewolf slowly getting angrier with him. And he’s shut the door. And is leaning against it. Smirking.

“Oops,” he breathes out. Derek just rolls his eyes before dropping his hands.

“We’re done talking about this,” the brunet says bluntly. Stiles opens his mouth to argue but Derek just speaks over him. “It’s dangerous and I don’t feel like giving your Dad a reason to borrow ammo from Chris Argent.”

Stiles throws his hands up and lets his head drop back against the door. “Dude! You don’t get to kiss me and then decide that I’m never allowed to do anything ever again. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way.” He closes his eyes at the sound of Derek moving towards him. The other man’s footsteps seemed to echo through the loft, damp and solid. “I don’t need protected.”

“Don’t you?” Derek’s right in front of him now and his voice is so soft Stiles can’t help the shudder that ran down his spine.

“Not from some boogeyman,” Stiles counters. He opens his eyes into slits and glares at Derek. “Not from you either, FYI.” That is enough goading to get Derek’s hands on him and Stiles congratulates himself on his manipulation skills for the two spare seconds of thought he has before the rest of Derek is pressing up against him. “You’re, uh... wet.”

“Because the boogeyman is slimey.” Derek digs his thumbs into Stiles’ arms for a moment before allowing his hands to sweep down to wrap around Stiles’ wrists. “With big teeth and sharp claws.” Stiles opens his eyes wider solely to roll them in Derek’s face. The look that earns him is more heated than expected but Stiles can absolutely roll with that.

“Does he also have a thing for young, innocent, defenseless boys with more brains than brawn?” 

Derek mirrors Stiles’ smirk. “It would certainly explain why he didn’t go after _you_.” Stiles snorts in Derek’s face in the half second it takes the other man to lean forward and press his mouth against the teen’s jaw. “Though I think he prefers brash, foolish boys with long legs and big... mouths.” Stiles grunts at the feel of Derek’s teeth running along the shell of his ear and is totally ready to beg for more when the man backs away enough to not be touching him anywhere anymore.

“Oh. My. GOD.” Stiles drops his head back against the door again before straightening up. “You don’t get to do this,” he says, moving forward when Derek takes a step back. “First there was the angry flirting and then the teasing flirting and then the flirting flirting and OH MY GOD I’m going to explode and you’re just sitting there silently laughing at me and all you’re wearing is a towel and I can practically see everything and I HATE YOU.” 

Derek cocks his head to the side slightly before taking another step back, forcing Stiles to react quickly, hands reaching out and failing to get a grip on the man’s wet chest.

The towel on the other hand...

“I... really don’t actually hate you.” Stiles whispers, nearly biting through his lip as he fights against the urge to let his eyes wander. Derek is staring down, presumably at the towel that is now in Stiles’ hands. “Umm... Speak?”

“Woof.” Stiles chokes a little at that but the sound is cut off when Derek’s eyes meet his again. They burn right through everything non-hormone related in the teen’s brain and he feels his own gaze dropping before it actually registers that it’s happening. Tan pecs, dark nipples, droplet of water river rafting over really unfair abs just to get caught up in dark, curly hair. 

“Uh... Yea.” Stiles nods slowly, eyes locked onto Derek’s cock where it hanging half-soft. “So that’s different.” The sound of Derek snorting brings Stiles’ brain back to 50%, at least. “I mean,” he tries and fails to force his eyes back up. “I mean it’s not like I never had health class and I’m sure there’s at least one guy at school who isn’t circumcised but I make a point not to stare at other guys’ junk.”

“Except for right now.” Stiles nods and lciks his lips absently, watching the way Derek’s cock seems to thicken at the same time. “Stiles.” The teen reaches out, forgetting the towel was still in his hand until the cotton weave is sliding over warm skin. Derek hisses in a breath and Stiles forces himself to look up.

“If you make me leave I’m going to be pissed,” he says quickly, wrapping his towel covered hand tighter around Derek’s cock. He can feel it harden more as he squeezes lightly but Derek only swallows, eyes narrowing. “Please.” Stiles takes a step forward so that his arm is pressed between their bodies. “Derek...”

The kiss is brutal, fast and hard and biting, and nothing at all like the first one. That one had been tentative and nothing like what Stiles’ had expected. Apparently nudity is the way to Derek Hales’ inner animal. Stiles snorts at himself and squeezes again as Derek pulls far enough away to catch Stiles’ eye.

“You’re not giving me a handjob with my bathtowel,” the older man says in a low voice. Stiles hesitates for a moment before fumbling around to get the towel out from between them without actually letting go.

“Fuck,” he hisses as he wraps his palm around Derek’s naked length. He pulls a bit, twisting, pushing, feeling the way the foreskin slid along the shaft and it makes Derek grunt another kiss against his mouth. Stiles can feel Derek’s hands slide up under the back of his shirt but it is like a ghost haunting along the curve of his spine compared to the heat in front of him. He focuses on the feel of Derek in his hand, Derek against his chest, Derek muttering against his jaw.

“Clothes, Stiles.” The teen pulls back enough for Derek’s hands to travel around to the front, tugging at the hem of Stiles’ shirt. “I’ll tear it and then your Dad will shoot me and I probably won’t let myself get near you again until your eighteenth birthday.”

“Yea, okay, yea.” Stiles mumbles the words against Derek’s skin, pressing in again to kiss the other man even as he finds himself being walked backwards, Derek’s hands sliding around again to tug his shirt up. 

“Let go, Stiles.” Derek bites Stiles’ lip and the sharpness is enough to get him to comply, regrettably releasing the man’s cock before his shirt is pulled up and over his head. The sleeves get caught on his wrists and he’s about to laugh out a joke when Derek stops him with a look, twisting the shirt and pulling at Stiles’ arms until the teen finds himself pressed back against the door, sleeves knotted around wrists that are pinned up and behind him.

“Hnn...” Stiles arches up, easing the stretch in his shoulders and pressing his own denim clad cock against Derek’s leg. “Please,” he whines, trying not to flinch at the rough feeling of his own underwear. One of Derek’s hands stays wrapped up in Stiles’ shirt while the other makes quick work of his jeans, tearing at the button and zipper and pushing them open only enough to pull Stiles out of the slit in his boxers. “Pleeeasssse,” Stiles urges again, drawing the word out with a sibilant hiss as Derek pushes against him.

“This was not the way I planned for this to happen.” Derek grunts out the last few words as he lined himself up with Stiles’ cock and wraps a long fingered hand around both of them. 

Stiles pulls against the hold Derek has on his arms and pushes into the hold he has on his cock. “You can buy me flowers the next time.” Derek drops his head against Stiles’ straining shoulder and chuckles low in his throat as he begins to move in counterpoint to Stiles’ thrusting hips. Stiles thinks of several more witty comments but he is pretty sure they’ve started leaking out of his cock. 

Derek feels like fire against and around him and it doesn’t take long for the burning to take hold and push Stiles over the edge. His shout takes Derek over with him, come slicking the last few strokes until the man bites down on Stiles’ neck hard enough to bruise and adds to the heat. Stiles shudders at the feeling of Derek’s tongue reaching out to smooth over the bite.

The older man pulls away slowly, hands still holding Stiles trapped against the door. “Your Dad’s definitely going to shoot me,” he says wryly, squeezing lightly at their cocks until Stiles’ knees started to give out.

“I’ll make sure he uses the normal bullets,” Stiles promises once Derek finally lets him go. “You’re the Alpha; you can take it.” Derek leans forward and licks over Stiles’ adam’s apple, sucking on it for a long moment before drawing back with an unfair smirk.

“I can take two.”


End file.
